Her birth was meticulously planned, but no one told her. Each time her sister's illness worsened, she found herself lying in the sterile white room, pushed into the frigid operating theater alongside her sister. She didn't know what those faceless people with scalpels did to her, but she understood that every time she left that room, she would be in agony. After enduring this pain several times, a young her knelt before her mother, crying and pleaded, "Mother, please don't make me go into that room; it hurts so much..." Her mother, her eyes filled with pity and determination, hugged her but firmly said, "No, you must save your sister; it's your birthright!"
As she grew, her sister's illness showed no signs of improvement, only worsening. As she grew older, she realized how different she was from other children. Her birth was due to her sister's severe illness. It was so dire that her parents had her, solely to provide spinal cord marrow for her sister. The grim reality silenced her permanently from the moment she learned it. She never spoke to anyone again, only letting out low moans when the unbearable pain struck.
One day, after surgery, she was wheeled into her hospital room. The anesthesia was wearing off, and the excruciating pain engulfed her, making her curl up. Her parents were nowhere to be seen. She resisted the intense pain, dizziness, and nausea, struggling to get up. Hunched over, she managed to crawl out of her hospital room to the adjacent room where her sister was. She didn't utter a sound, just silently went in and listened to her parents comforting and encouraging her sister.
The attending nurse saw her and quickly helped her back to her room, saying, "Just had surgery; you can't move around freely." When she saw the young nurse, her eyes were filled with sympathy.
She had become increasingly peculiar. She never used to pay much attention to her sister, but now she often stood by her sister's hospital room, gazing at her as she slept. Her mother, seeing her there, couldn't help but feel guilty. "Why aren't you resting?" she asked. The girl turned her head, smiled strangely, and said nothing. Her mother, seeing her smile, felt even more remorse. This lovely child hadn't smiled in years.
It happened after another surgery. Her sister was still unconscious, but she couldn't stay in her own hospital room; she had to come back to see her sister. Her mother seemed to feel guilty for imposing too much on her daughter, so she asked if there was anything she wanted. After thinking for a moment, she pointed to a candy apple in the hands of a child on TV, with a longing look in her eyes. Her mother's eyes welled up, and she nodded, saying, "I'll go buy you one!"
The mother left in a hurry. She and her father sat in her sister's hospital room, and suddenly, she stood up, touched her belly, and looked at her father pleadingly. Her father asked with a hint of guilt, "Are you hungry?" She nodded. Her father scratched his head with a sense of guilt and said, "Then I'll get you some takeout!" He left too.
Some time passed, and her mother returned to the hospital room. She opened the door and was met with a strong smell of blood. "Ah!!!!!!" Her mother slumped to the floor, terrified screams filling the entire hospital room. The candy apple fell from her hand. She stood there, holding a blood-soaked scalpel, gazing upward with a smile. The pure white room was now awash with vibrant crimson, with the girl's organs scattered on the floor. Her pale face, hunched body, blue and white striped gown, the blood-soaked room. Yet, she was happily innocent in all her strangeness.
Sounds of doctors and nurses came from outside the hospital room, but she remained utterly unperturbed. She took a bite of the blood-spattered candy apple, saying, "It's so sweet..."